by Lynette Noni
I didn’t think it was possible to be more repulsed by his actions, but I am. “That’s — that’s — I don’t know what to say.”
“It is what it is,” Kael says, his voice low. “But it’s not all bad news. We’ve managed to build something good here, where we try to hunt down the new-generation Speakers before Vanik can get his hands on them, and we free others from his clutches. The catacombs are our haven, a place for us to come and go as we please. It’s our sanctuary. And more, it’s our base of operations for anyone wanting to be part of the defense against Lengard.”
There’s a lot to address in what he’s just said, but there’s one thing I have to know: “Is Jeremiah — is your dad — is he here?” I was told he died ten years ago, but I’m not sure what to believe anymore.
Kael gives a swift shake of his head, telling me all I need to know. “He’s — he’s no longer with us.”
“I’m sorry,” I offer quietly, and I am. I know what it’s like to lose a father. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. But I’m also sorry because a small part of me feels connected to Jeremiah on a level I haven’t been able to establish with any of the other Speakers. As a Creator, he of all people would understand my inner battle. My constant struggle for control. The reason I can’t talk freely, unlike —
“Wait a second.” I glance around the room, again noting the distinct lack of Karoel. “I know that there are more important issues, but I need to ask — why can’t I Speak down here? How am I talking like a normal person?”
“Ah,” Kael says, leaning back in his seat. “That would be because of me.”
I raise my eyebrows in question.
He offers me a strangely smug look. “You might be a Creator, princess, but me? I’m a Destroyer.”
It’s Enzo’s voice that comes as a memory this time: Creators have all the strengths, none of the weakness … The only other kind of Speaker who has even close to that sort of power is a Destroyer, but there aren’t any of those around anymore.
Clearly, he was mistaken.
“And that means?” I ask.
Kael watches me for a long moment. “I’m only going to answer because I realize that after hauling you down here as I did, you might appreciate a show of faith.”
I withhold my “You think?” glare and wait for him to share.
“I can destroy words,” Kael says. “I can effectively nullify the words uttered by a Speaker, stopping them from having any effect — which is what I’ve been doing with you.”
I marvel at this new information. While I, as a Creator, can do almost anything, and Ward, as a Protector, can control the intent of words that are Spoken, it would seem as if Kael’s Destroyer ability means that he can effectively … dissolve words, stripping them of their power entirely.
“But here’s a bonus most people don’t know,” he adds. “More than just destroying the power of words, I can also change the intent behind them.”
I struggle to understand what he’s saying, still trying to wrap my head around the differences between Speakers.
“Your Slayer friend, Crew, right?” Kael asks, reading my confusion. “He might Speak to open a gash on someone’s knee, but I can redirect the intent behind his words, breaking the person’s arm, instead. My only limit is that I have to stay within the boundaries of a Speaker’s own Speaking ability. I can’t change Crew’s intent to heal, for example, any more than I could use Cami’s words to injure someone.”
“That’s insane,” I whisper, overwhelmed by the possibilities. And then my breath hitches, and I jump out of my seat again, backing away from him when I realize what that could mean for me.
He watches me with a furrowed brow. “What’s going through your head right now?”
“I’m a Creator. I have no boundaries,” I say, telling him something he already knows. “You could do anything you want with me — with my words.”
He stands and moves one step, two steps, three steps closer, until I’m pressed up against the wall and he’s right in my space.
“I could,” he admits, his voice quiet. “Or I could choose to gain your trust by not doing exactly that.” He leans in even closer, if that’s at all possible, and his breath flutters across my skin when he says, “Remember who my dad is, princess. I witnessed his struggle, watched him fight for control every day. He wouldn’t let anyone help him, but I’m hoping you’ll be different. I want you to discover the full scope of what you can do with your ability. In return for my guidance, I want you to help me stop Vanik from hurting anyone else.”
Silence gathers around us while I rally my thoughts enough to frame a response. But I can’t. I don’t know where to begin. As much as I wish it weren’t true, I’m tempted by Kael’s olive branch. Ward drew me in under false pretenses, stealing my trust and throwing it back in my face. Kael, however, literally kidnapped me and gave me every reason to distrust him — but as far as I can tell, he hasn’t once lied to me. And because of that, it’s almost as if, with something as important as this, I can trust him.
Before I can get my head around that enough to reply, Kael jumps in again.
“You’ve been given a lot to think about, and I’m guessing you’re near the limit of what you can take right now,” he says. “I’m also aware that when you leave here, you’re going to see the happy, smiling faces of your Lengard buddies, and you’ll start doubting everything I’ve said. So instead of me telling you anything more, you’ve reached the part where you need to see proof for yourself.”
He leans into me anew, close — way too close — and my lungs constrict when I fail to offer them more oxygen. But all he does is knock twice on the door beside my head. He pulls me toward him when it opens outward — saving me from landing on my backside — and the others stream back into the room.
“Dora, you’re up,” Kael says to Pandora, as if she’s supposed to know exactly what he’s talking about.
“Hmm,” she says, walking over to the center of the room. “Let me see what I can find in my little box of goodies.”
Dante groans. “Seriously, how many times do we have to hear the ‘Pandora’s box’ gimmicks before you realize they’re not the least bit funny?”
“We have new ears,” Pandora says, motioning to Sneak and me. “Let me have my moment.”
“Dora, we’re tight for time here,” Kael says, reminding me that soon we will be returned to the surface.
“All right, all right,” she snipes, reaching for a box hidden beneath the semicircled bench. She rifles through it and pulls something out, then passes it to me.
I turn it over in my hands and say, “It’s a glove.”
“Ten points, genius,” she responds with a snicker. “We’ll work on identifying socks next.”
“What I meant is,” I say through gritted teeth, “why are you giving me a glove? And just one?”
Pandora flicks her purple pigtails over her shoulders and eyes Kael furtively. “Didn’t you tell her anything?”
“I told her enough,” he says.
“Clearly,” Dante mutters, amused.
“Here’s the dealio, Lyss,” Pandora says.
I jerk violently at the nickname.
“I have a Speaking ability that allows me to infuse — or transfer — matter into other objects, such as replicating a certain director’s DNA and handprint particulars into a glove just like the one you’re holding.”
My eyes light with understanding when I realize she’s just given me an all-access pass to Lengard. All except for —
“And here, you’ll need these, too,” Pandora adds, handing me a pair of gaudy, purple-and-pink-framed glasses. “Put them on and they’ll help you cheat the retinal scanner. The infusions will only last three days, but you’ll be able to go wherever you want in that time so long as you don’t get caught.”
“But where —”
“Falon has a hidden doorway in his office,” Kael says. “Did you know that?”
I nod, fiddling with the objects in my hands. “When h
e first took me down to the real training rooms and told me all about Speakers, we went through that door and along a hallway until we reached a secret elevator.”
“That’s where you need to go,” he says. “Slip through his office and get to that elevator, but instead of going down, go up. It’ll take you directly to Vanik’s hidden lab. It’s there you’ll find evidence that we’re not the terrorists in this equation, and you’ll see you can trust us with whatever comes next.”
“I thought you said Falon doesn’t know what Vanik’s doing,” I say, ignoring his comment about trust. Evidence or not, that will still need to be earned. “How can that be true if all he has to do is take the elevator to the lab and see for himself?”
Kael shakes his head. “I didn’t say Falon doesn’t know — I said he doesn’t realize.”
“We think Vanik has someone who can modify memories,” Pandora explains, noting my confusion. “Someone he keeps handy for any … unexpected visitors.”
Dante jumps in. “That’s how we think he’s kept Falon in the dark for all these years. Because while the director certainly has his faults, he’d never allow Vanik to carry on his experiments if he knew how far he was really going with them still.”
I wait for someone to tell me more, but no one offers anything else, so I say, “I’m sorry, but if Vanik has access to a Speaker with that kind of ability, what’s to stop him or her from modifying my memory?”
Pandora snorts. “You’re a Creator. Be creative.”
Looking around at the faces all watching me — and with expectation — I realize they have a lot more faith in my ability than they should.
“I may be a Creator,” I say slowly, “but my control is scattered at best. I’m certainly not competent enough to go up against another Speaker and be creative enough for us to both come out in one piece.”
With a laugh, Pandora says, “Don’t be ridiculous. Kael, tell her.”
I turn to Kael, fully expecting him to back me up, since he’s had to destroy the power of my words the whole time I’ve been down here.
“Dora’s right — you’ll be fine,” he says.
My mouth drops at his quick, unconcerned agreement.
“No, seriously,” he says. “I’m hardly destroying any of your words now — you’re doing most of it yourself. As long as you’re careful with your intent, you shouldn’t have any problems with your control.”
My hands tighten around the glove and glasses. “But what if I come face-to-face with this memory Speaker?”
Pandora grins and says, “I suggest you turn whoever it is into a frog. That’ll teach ’em.”
She’s not taking this seriously. None of them are. But none of them know exactly what I’m capable of. If they did, they wouldn’t be so relaxed around me. Not even with Kael here to keep me in check.
“Aw, come on,” Pandora says, laughing again. “Lighten up, Lyss.”
I’m so anxious about it all — the expectations, the misguided faith, the joking frog suggestion that would be all too easy for me to carry out — that I can’t keep from snapping at her. “Stop calling me that. ‘Lyss’ — ‘princess’ — I don’t know why you’re calling me that.”
Pandora looks taken aback. Hurt, even. “Um. Maybe because that’s your name? Well, not the princess part — that’s all Kael, and I’ll admit, that’s weird. But the Lyss part …”
I shuffle my feet, shift my eyes and wonder how I might escape the room and everything I’ve learned in the past hour. And yet, I still hear myself summon the courage to ask, “How can you possibly know that?”
It’s not Pandora who answers, but Kael. His voice is strong and steady. Calm, even. Perhaps too calm.
“We’ve been watching you for years, Alyssa Scott.”
My breath freezes in my lungs at the name I’ve heard only twice in over two and a half years, both times from his mouth. But he’s not finished, and I know this because the words he utters next shatter me from the inside out.
“We’ve been watching you since long before you killed your parents.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
I need air.
I need air, and I need it right now.
Heedless of what I’m doing or where I’m going, I tear out of the room before anyone can catch me. I hear cries of alarm from behind me, but I can’t stop — I won’t stop — I can’t stop — I won’t stop —
I run and I run and I run, following the flame-lit corridors of the underground labyrinth, not caring how lost I become or if anyone will ever find me. I just need to get away.
“Alyssa, stop!”
I can’t stop.
I won’t stop.
I can’t stop.
I won’t stop.
“Lyss! Would you just wait a second!”
My lungs are burning. I have a cramp forming in my calf and a stitch in my side that feels like I’ve been stabbed. But it’s nothing compared to the pain I’m really feeling. The pain that I know no amount of stretching or breathing will make go away. So I keep running, blurring my way through the unending tunnels and deep into the depths of the underground maze.
“Alyssa! Enough!”
Arms like steel bands wrap around me from behind, yanking me back in a violent halt. The abrupt stop pushes the little remaining air from my lungs, making me realize just how hard I’ve been breathing, with unnaturally short, sharp breaths. My pulse is skyrocketing, too.
I have no control over my reaction. All I know is that something is keeping me from running. And I need to be running. So I spin around and lash out like a cornered animal, punching, kicking, clawing my way to freedom. The arms only tighten, pulling me so close that I’m trapped against a hard, warm chest, barely able to wiggle, let alone maneuver myself free. Even so, I don’t give up. I fight. I fight.
It’s only when I begin to lag with exhaustion that I hear a deep, soothing voice as if from far away, and I realize the owner has been talking for a while, telling me some kind of story.
“… and then when I was fourteen, I rode my bike into a parked car — don’t ask how — and I fractured it again. I felt so stupid that I didn’t tell anyone for days. I waited so long that they had to stick a metal plate along the bone to get it to set right. Remind me to show you the scar next time you’re not trying to scratch my face off.”
The fight leaves me and I slump against Kael as the haze of terror clears from my mind.
“I-I-I’m s-s-s-sorry,” I stutter through chattering teeth. I don’t know if I’m cold or if it’s just my body’s way of dealing with what happened. “I d-didn’t mean t-to —”
“Don’t worry ’bout it, princess.” Kael’s arms are still supporting me. “Do you want to hear about the next one?”
“The ne-next one?”
“My next trip to the emergency room.”
That’s what he’s been sharing with me?
“Why’re you telling me about your hos-hospital visits?” I’m pleased that I almost manage to get the whole sentence out without chattering. My heart rate is calming now, too, and my breathing is almost back to normal.
I feel Kael’s shoulders move in a shrug. “You were panicking. It used to happen to my dad. The only thing that helped was if I gave him something else to focus on. So I would tell him stories — real ones, made-up ones, it didn’t matter. Just something for him to listen to. It helped draw him back, pull him out of his fear.”
My body tenses again, but Kael tightens his hold on me and says, “It’s nothing to be ashamed about. It happens to the best of us.”
I finally push away from him. My legs wobble, but I’m able to hold myself up without his help. “I bet it’s never happened to you,” I say, unable to meet his eyes.
“Doesn’t mean it won’t one day,” he replies. His voice holds no judgment, no pity. “Now, are we going to talk about why it happened?”
“No,” I say quickly. Too quickly.
“I’ll rephrase,” he says firmly. “We’re going to talk about what just ha
ppened. I’ve seen anxiety attacks before, but that was extreme. And as much as I don’t want to worry you, you should also know you were screaming ‘I can’t stop — I won’t stop’ over and over, with powerful intent behind your words. If I hadn’t been chasing after you and nullifying your ability, you would have literally run yourself to death.”
I flinch, knowing he’s right. And more than that, I could have screamed anything in my panicked state. If he hadn’t followed me and destroyed the power of my words … I don’t want to imagine what I might have said. What I might have done.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “I don’t know what happened.”
“Sure you do,” he replies. “You lost it because I mentioned your parents.”
I flinch again, this time much more violently.
“It was years ago, but you still haven’t dealt with it,” he continues, not noticing — or not caring — that every word he says is like a knife slicing into my flesh. “You’re still holding on to that guilt. You have to let it go before it destroys you.”
“I can’t do that,” I force out. “I don’t know how to do that.”
“You’re going to have to figure it out,” Kael tells me. “Because next time something like this happens, it might not end so well for you — or for the rest of the world.”
He’s right — again. I have to get control of my thoughts. Maybe then I’ll find it easier to get control of my Speaking ability. Perhaps the two are connected somehow. But I’ll be damned if I run that theory past Ward in our training sessions. No way will I tell him about my past, about what happened, about what I did. I still refuse to give him my name, let alone anything else.
“How do you know?” I ask Kael. “How do you know about me, my parents, any of it?” I step forward, closing the space between us again. “You said you were watching me since before — since before it happened. But how? And why?”
